A strange marriage
by NevemTeve
Summary: The Thickness-administration institues a Marriage Law which forces Hermione to marry a pureblood wizard. Neville and Hermione.


AN: This story is a translation from Hungarian; if your Hungarian is better than my English, please read the original instead _(Különös házasság)._ I do apologise for my bad English, corrections are welcome (PM me).

**A strange marriage**

What is a man supposed to do if his wife has just divorced him after one-and-half years of marriage? Maybe he should visit the nearest pub, and take comfort in drinking? Hope that the alcohol helps him accept the un-acceptable, understand the un-understandable – or if not that, at least helps him spending a few hours in happy delirium...

Well, it was not a _divorce,_ Neville Longbottom reminded himself, but the _annulment_ of the marriage, based on the fact that it had never been consummated.

Moreover, it was true. There was no place for doubt or suspense in this question: the _Wizarding Register_ automatically recorded not only the date of the wedding, but the date of the _fulfilment_ as well. Ancient wizarding tradition – and of course revolting indiscretion, he thought bitterly.

And what a man is supposed to do if it was himself who has brought that on himself? If the circumstances forced him to offer her _in-name-only marriage_ to protect her from... Well, he didn't know _what_ from; what would have happened to Hermione if she had not obeyed the Marriage Law legislated by the Thicknesse-administration, but he guessed that it would have been the best case if they just forced her to marry someone whom they thought being from _higher ancestry..._ The mere thought made him shudder.

Anyway, their marriage had been concluded, lasted for one-and-half years, and today finished – wasn't it a good enough reason to comfort himself with a glass (maybe bottle) or two of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey?

It appeared he was not the only one who had come to this idea: as he crossed the threshold of the pub, his eyes fall on a painfully familiar face at a corner-desk; before her there was a bottle, yet unopened, and two glasses. As he entered, she gave him an inviting gesture.

Should he turn back? Or sit somewhere else, and pretend whole night that he hasn't seen her? But both of those solutions would be too much like an _escape..._ If things turned out this way, he might as well sit to her desk. They greeted each other with a nod, then he open the bottle and poured whiskey for both of them.

After the third big glass, things started the fall in their places in his soul. Why couldn't they have a little chat? ... After everything...

'Let's drink to Minister Thicknesse's health,' he raised his glass. 'After all, I owe him my happiest part of my life.'

'To Thicknesse,' she joined him. 'What did you think,' she suddenly asked, 'when you found out that Thicknesse was after all Dumbledore's man?

'I did not believe it!' he replied flatly.

'But later, when you had finally believed, what did you think?

'I still didn't believe it,' he insisted. 'Right,' he gave in finally, 'when at last I _more or less_ believed that it could have been so, I thought how much it was like to Dumbledore; he has always been playing with us as if we were his chess-pieces... but of course only for the _Greater Good..._ Anyway, I still don't understand _how_ You-Know-Who could have died? Wasn't there a Prophecy saying that only Harry could kill him?'

'And so it happened,' Hermione explained. 'Harry killed him, without touching him. More precisely, it was Harry's _blood_ that slowly killed him; the blood, which he used to create his hew body, when he'd returned seven years ago.

'What I don't understand,' she continued, 'that how come that his Death-Eaters have never realised that their adored Dark Lord had died... Certainly, they weren't there at his death,' she went on, 'but why didn't they wonder that he had stopped summoning them via their Dark Marks? Anyhow, at least Thicknesse came round from the Imperius, and he found out he had become Minister of Magic in the reign of the Death-Eathers.

'Yes, right, I will admit he did the best thing he could: he asked for Dumbledore's advice so they could decide together how to get rid of You-Know-Who's supporters... Who by that time were frighteningly numerous: a lot of people had found out that they wanted to be on the winning side, and they had no scruples or reservations... If those people realised that they had chose the wrong side, and someone – Bellatrix Lestrange, for instance – decided to lead them, we could end up with a civil-war.'

'Brilliant,' Neville bitterly approved. 'And in the end, the conspiracy lead by Thicknesse defeated the power of Thicknesse Ministry with a bloodless coup. But maybe even they did not know themselves that it would take them _two whole years,_ and meanwhile they would have to prove somehow the government's anti-Muggle policy, so they made up this Marriage Law... Well, in retrospect, it doesn't seem to be that horrible... after all, they did not threaten with prison, if you didn't obey...

'No, not in so many words,' she admitted, 'they left it to my imagination to decide what frightens me most: death? prison? being forced to marry someone they choose? or would they hurt my parents to punish me?'

Neville shuddered: he hasn't thought of those possibilities... 'But it was not even true,' he said angrily. 'They should have told you that _in reality_ nothing threatened you...'

'You mean just me, or every affected people?' she asked logically. 'The risk would have been too big; someone easily could have given us away...

'Anyway,' she mused, 'it's true that I was angry, furious, hurt, outraged, but _I was not afraid:_ I was quite sure that... the Boy-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –'

'Who? Harry? ... or Riddle?' he asked losing the thread.

_'Ron Weasley,'_ she snapped. 'I was sure he would take it as a clue, and finally propose! It would not have been the most romantic case ever in the history,' she admitted a bit more calmly, 'but I would have happily said yes...'

'You won't be surprised to hear that I had been waiting for that for several years... My little plan had only one weak point, a very little hole...' she drunk another sip the regain his composure, then went on. 'Strictly speaking, I cannot blame him: he didn't delude me with false hopes, I deluded myself. He had never promised anything, and never did anything that could have suggested that he wanted a serious relationship...

'They say that what a guy in our age wants above everything is sex... as the proverb says _whatever it is, even the flying Snitch...'_ she saw Neville's face flushing red, but even the drink did not let her stop. 'Still, whenever I would ask him if he wanted to _score same points in a special one-to-one Quidditch match_ he would just _evade it.'_

'Obviously, because he is an old-fashioned man, who restrains himself before his wedding night...' Neville tried to protect Ron, even if he himself couldn't have told _why._

'Yes, he did say something like that,' she nodded bitterly, 'except for the little fact he didn't say that he had never planned to marry _me;_ but until he would find his true love, he liked to be with me, he didn't mind some snogging, but nothing more than that.

'That was the point when you entered the picture,' she returned to her story, 'you and Draco Malfoy.'

_'Draco Malfoy!_ You don't mean you seriously considered his offer, do you?'

'Neville, relax, please. _Of course,_ I did consider his offer seriously – it was very much like yours, mind you: he offered marriage _'in name only'_ to protect me...'

'But only to earn good points from the establishment,' he interrupted, 'or maybe the next establishment: _"I myself deeply despise this Marriage Law – but I deserve only gratitude and respect for what I have done: in spite of my own prejudices, I wanted to protect a defenceless woman from the Law, offering her safety and subsistence."'_

'Yes, that's what I thought myself,' Hermione agreed. 'It would have been a fair _business,_ don't you think so? Of course his situation would have been easier than yours: the traditions of his family allow him to have concubines, and make his child born out of wedlock his legitimate heir if –'

'If their pedigree is acceptable,' Neville interrupted, 'I mean their mother is a pure-blood witch...'

'Please, Neville, listen to me. I don't say it is the right thing, just that, that it would have been a fair business: Draco would not have expected any sort of payback or gratitude... maybe only that he should _not_ have to meet me personally too often, for it would not have done good to his good standing in the society.'

'How chivalrous, a real little knight,' he agreed. 'Let's drink for Draco Malfoy's health. So, why didn't you choose him in the end?'

'Because living with Draco would have been the same thing as living _alone,'_ she said simply, 'and I didn't think I could do that... 'You know, when Ron and I broke up – at least I don't see what else could I call it, than a break-up – somehow the things changed with Harry and Ginny as well. I didn't want to force them to choose between Ron and me, so instead I...'

'To avoid that, you left them,' he finished for her. 'It was a very prideful gesture, but this way you sentenced yourself...' he shrugged his shoulders and left his sentence unfinished. 'Most likely, I would have done the same thing if I had been in your place... Anyway, they only could have pitied you, but not _help._ Of course I can imagine what it must have felt to be alone: you three had been together all along in the Hogwarts, and after that as well... or with Ginny, the four close friends...

_'You_ know very well how it feels, to be lonely, don't you?' she quietly asked.

Neville shrugged again. 'I didn't say it to ask for your sympathy... or not only for that...' he tried to joke.

Hermione smiled. 'I knew that you always had felt lonely... I thought that if I chose your offer, it might be good for you too... Provided I did not give you too much trouble; so I decided that I would try to be nice to you, conform myself to you, and...'

'And pretend that nothing hurts you? Everything is alright, our lives could not be better? I wouldn't have believed it even if I hadn't found out about your hiding into your room every afternoon between two and four to cry.'

'Regularity is important, isn't it?' it was her time to try to joke. 'You do understand, don't you that I needed time to cry... to _mourn,_ if I may say so... I couldn't just write off nine years saying _"sorry, it was just a mistake, let's move on, and be just friends"'_

'I didn't wanted you to do so, just... well, I don't know, maybe just to _let me_ help you... try to comfort you, or...' he hesitated for a little while, then blurted out: 'I realized that you didn't trust me enough, that's why I suggested you go home to your parents for a few days.

Hermione blushed deeply. 'And I replied that... – I hope you understand now I didn't want to offend you – that "I didn't think that you would allow me to"... I didn't realise that it sounded as if I felt in your house like in _prison...'_

'Maybe a part of your soul did want to retreat resentfully, angry with world,' he pondered. 'And maybe a part of my soul would have been happy if you had done so, if there had not been anyone else for you to trust in, just me... As in the _Beauty and the Beast_ or something like that...' He just shrugged as he caught her asking glance. Maybe he shouldn't have let it out that his souls also has a selfish, possessing part? But was it not the point of the drinking, to destroy the inhibitions, and make them tell everything they wouldn't tell otherwise? 'Maybe everyone does have a dark side... My 'better part' knew that you mustn't turn your back to your friends – even if you didn't want to meet Harry and Ginny; Luna, Parvati, Lavender and the others _hadn't_ done anything against you – and, what's more, you mustn't turn away from your own parents...'

He tried to suppress the little voice in his mind saying _'You are lucky to have parents',_ and _'I'll miss the Sunday dinners with them... Before now, they treated me like family, for your sake; but should I meet them ever again, it would lead to nowhere but unpleasant awkwardness from both parties.'_

'Well, when you returned,' tried Neville to move on, 'I could tell that it had helped –'

'Really? As far as I remember, I felt just as much miserable, as I had felt before.'

'True, but at least you _admitted_ that you felt miserable... One cannot solve a problem by denying its existence – it was you who said so, if I remember correctly.

'I realise,' he quietly went on, 'that it's not easy to accept help or favours from a stranger,' he saw in her eyes the urge to argue, but he didn't stop, 'but I thought if you could see past the last two years, when we didn't meet each other, and think back of those _seven_ years before in the Hogwarts, which I could have never survived without your help, then you wouldn't think of me as a _stranger...._

'I suppose that maybe it was a part of it that the Neville Longbottom living in your parents mind (whom they hadn't known personally only from your words) was still that clumsy little boy, who always got into trouble if you didn't help him...

Seeing her frowning, he quickly added: 'Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining; what I hoped was that your parents would help you not to see me as a jailer or another Draco Malfoy...'

'It's true,' Hermione admitted, 'I needed some weeks to understand your point, and not to feel awkward for crying on your shoulder... for having lost Ron Weasley.'

'But it wasn't just him, was it? I reckon there was something much more serious as well.

'She gave him a surprised glance. 'If you think that I have ever taken Viktor Krum seriously, then you are –'

'Not him, obviously; the general opinion of the wizarding world... For example, _I_ have always been considered as a hopeless case: clumsy, forgetful, almost a Squib – I don't say that it was fictional, but the mere fact that everyone expected the worst from me, in itself could have convinced me that that is the order of the things, and there is no hope for me to change.'

'Not everyone thought that you were hopeless: there were Lupin and Sprout, and in our fifth year, in the DA, Harry: they believed in you, and you didn't let them down, did you? You only had to feel the trust, and you began to trust in yourself, too...'

'Yes, that's what I meant: everyone had told you that you were the most talented pupil of the school – and that you were! – and you didn't have to worry because of the prejudices of people like the Malfoys, as the parentage mustn't matter... But it _did_ matter, didn't it? There was no open war, as we had expected, the prejudices gradually grew in the mind of some people... Especially people near the power: Ministry officers, journalists, judges and prosecutors... They were not all under Imperius, like Thicknesse, the majority of them simply couldn't (and did not want) resist the ruling ideology... The general opinion started to make Dumbledore looking foolish, suggested that he was senile or disconcerted. In this situation this Marriage Law – yes, I know, it was just deceit, necessary bad for the greater good – was one more step to make you believe that –'

'That I was an inferior person because of my blood-status – my mind knew it was not true, but a deep part of my heart thought that maybe it had been Ron's reason to reject me... Of course _now_ I know it was not true, but back then...'

'And you did not tell me about these worries of yours, because you were afraid that I, a _pureblood_ wizard, wouldn't understand it... but it was not hard to me to guess it.

'So I thought that maybe it would help if there were something else that could distract your interest; a problem, that might have a solution; nothing could have helped that Ron had left you, nor the fact that the wizarding world was full with prejudices, but maybe, something could help... to heal Marietta Edgecombe's face.'

'At first, I thought you only brought out Marietta's case to _humiliate_ me; I mean,' she tried to dim her words, 'to make me remember that I wasn't the... innocent victim which I wanted to feel myself.

Neville scratched his head. It was true; his intensions could have been interpreted that way, but... 'Well, I'll admit that I have always wanted to know why you could never forgive Marietta. Eventually, I found out (or at least guessed) that was because then you would have had to admit that it had been cruel to destroy her face... and admit that you could not undo it either.' He hoped he hadn't spoilt everything, but, he realised, everything had already been spoilt, hadn't it?

Hermione didn't seem to have taken offence; rather she seemed to be... contented. 'So I was right: you aren't any more that innocent and oblivious little boy you were back in the Hogwarts, or at least you seemed to be... You do have a hidden Slytherin self, just admit it.'

It was almost a challenge, but he just shrugged his shoulders. 'I'll admit that, if you admit that I did nothing _against_ you, only _for_ you.'

'And had you known that this project would take _half a year?_ For the three of us? But anyway, how came that Horace Slughorn and you... Take no offence, but I would think he is the man who befriends people only if he can expect something from them...'

'Since he has returned to his old profession,' Neville explained, 'he doesn't seek only for the friendship of people with power and influence, he needs herbalists like me, too.

'In this project I was not only his supplier, but his procurer as well... I knew that the three of us could do it: Slughorn, the best Potion Master we could find; yourself, the brightest witch of our age; and me to perform the botanical background work – should need arise for sixty-four different hues of petunia, with a dead-line that is half of the impossible, I would provide them...

Hermione frowned. 'I didn't know you felt unnoticed or not respected...'

'No, it's not what I wanted to say,' he amended quickly. 'I've realised long ago that I was not born to be a mastermind or a leader...' He stopped to ponder for a minute, what his point could have been originally? So the drink had already started to confuse his thoughts and destroy his inhibitions... 'But _you_ were everyone knows that... You are meant for greater things than to be the biggest fan of a professional Quidditch player,' his out-bursting passion surprised even himself, but he didn't even try to control it. 'You knew it, Ron knew it, _we all_ knew that you wouldn't spend your life with waiting him to come home after his matches, and serving his dinner.'

What gave Neville the right, pondered Hermione, to tell the truth so bluntly? 'You might be right,' she said carefully, 'but now I don't know if I should be proud or ashamed.'

'None of those,' he shrugged. 'Simply consider it as an important fact... It might not be easy to find a man who accepts a woman with superior qualities and ambitions, but I don't think it is impossible.' _You have just divorced one,_ he half-wanted to add.

'If I understand correctly what I heard of your adventures, Harry and Ron usually settled for waiting what life brings up, it was _you_ who came up with plans; for example, in our second year, the Polyjuice Potion was your idea, and you found out that Slytherin's monster is a basilisk...

'Well, this Marietta project seemed to work: it took no more than a few weeks, and I have got back my old Hermione; I mean,' he blushed, 'not _back_ and not _my,_ but... Anyway, I was happy to see you being the old yourself: agile and confident.

'And when finally the healing ointment got prepared, I was happy for the success, but I was worried in the same time: what to do next? I couldn't expect you to just sit down and help in the garden... That was when I got the idea that you could apply for a job in the Ministry; for example Arthur Weasley's old job at the Office of Muggle Artefact's... I supposed that not many people wanted that particular job under the new establishment...'

'But how could you have thought that the Ministry, which is openly biased against the Muggle-born, would give me a job?'

'But they did so, didn't they?' parried Neville. 'Anyhow, if you hadn't even applied, would it have been better than trying it and being rejected?'

'It sounds reasonably enough, as if I have said so myself...' she admitted. 'So I did got that job, and it's true that without your help I wouldn't even have tried, so I am grateful for that, too...' she got his mildly annoyed glance, and quickly changed the subject.

'We don't have talk about that, if you are not comfortable with it, but there is something else we have to talk about, even if it will be more embarrassing... I know that you guys like to joke about me never notice anything that isn't like a textbook – but I did notice _something,_ after our very first week in Hogwarts. After all, it isn't so common, that I gain boys attention, that I wouldn't notice that you... You were interested in me, weren't you? Or I could say –'

'You don't have to be careful with you words: I fell in love with you on the very first day we met on the King's Cross... Yes, I should have told you, but I knew that there was no point in telling you, as it was hopeless on the first place, because you could never love me back.'

'Not _on the first place_ and not _never!_' she protested. 'If it had not been for Ron, you would have had a chance... but don't ask why he was better than you, for I couldn't answer.'

'Well, nor could I – how many times did he hurt you unintentionally, out of mere stupidity, and how many times on purpose, because he couldn't control his emotions? Beginning with the sentence: _"That girl is a nightmare, no wonder she has no friends",_ then again _"I'm so desperate to find a date for the ball that I would take anyone – even you"_ and finally the way he broke up with you!' That was he wanted to say, but he didn't because somehow it felt dishonest, as if in a way Ron still were his rival.

'And when to years after we left Hogwarts, you offered marriage, I thought that you still haven't moved on... Well, I heard that were together with Hannah Abbot for some months...

Neville perked up. 'Yes, she is a great girl, I enjoyed every minute with her: she has got a special talent with the tropical flowers that amazed me so much,' or it wasn't exactly the topic? The _Orchid-project,_ he remember, which they performed together was a great success; from her part of the profit, Hannah could buy the most famous wizarding pub in London, fulfilling her old dream. A bit strange carrier-path for an excellent herbalist, but...

He shook his head to return his attention to the present. 'Well, regarding the romance: Hannah and I realised that we didn't need to be each other's _substitute_ or _consolation prise:_ I would never be Justin Finch-Fletchley, nor would she ever be Hermione Granger...' Obviously, he said a bit more than he had wanted, but that had been already clear: his feelings for Hermione hadn't changed a bit since their Hogwarts-times.

'I thought so myself,' she admitted. 'If we lived in a fairy tale, I'd confess you that I love you back and we could live happily ever after... But what could I do if it is not case?' Neville only shrugged: it was all past now, already closed and finished, wasn't it?'

'I'm sorry for having no better news... But if you asked me if I could live with you, not temporarily, not forced, not married 'in name only', but really, truly, for good and all, then I would say a firm _yes._'

So it was true, he thought feeling dizzy, Luna Lovegood had been right again: the whiskey can open gate between alternate worlds, and one can experience events, which in fact happen no to them, but to their alternate self. _This_ Hermione, who had just said that she would have liked to live with him, mustn't be the same woman who declared this morning declared before witnesses that she wanted to cancel their almost-marriage.

What could he say? The truth: 'I am not the same person who you think I am'? She would think he has drunk too much. What was more: it could be true, maybe he had simply drunk too much... What if he simply said what he actually thought? It may worth a try...

'Let's imagine,' he started tentatively, 'that we are living in another world, where there is no You-Know-Who, no Thicknesse, and there is no Marriage Law. And, let's imagine that in this fictional world, I happen to hear that Ron has broken up with you...

'Obviously, I would be angry with him, I'd think he is a mindless, ungrateful prat... I would try to bring him around... but deep in my heart I would hope that he would _not_ do that... I would hope that when you are get over him, I might have a chance with you – not _much_ of a chance, obviously, but I should not have had to live my whole life with knowledge that I never has had a try.

'Of course I would never push anything... As they say, if your heart is broken, it's good to have someone to help collecting to pieces... Slowly, patiently, during weeks or months, and meantime you would – maybe – become comfortable me being around, I would be part of your life, and you would be part of mine... And if it worked, if I saw that you recovered, then I could... No, I wouldn't ask for _compensation_ as if it were like a business.... I only would offer a prospect, and take no offence if you rejected...

'It sounds like a good plan,' Hermione nodded, 'but why are you using conditional mood? That's exactly what you have done, isn't it?'

'No!' he lashed out angrily. 'Being locked together in pretence of a marriage, is the right _opposite_ of what I mean... If I ever tried to only hint _anything_ what steps over the limits of friendship, it would sound like a demand... or even blackmail, wouldn't it?'

'Aren't your moral laws a bit too strict, Neville?' she softly asked. 'Earlier you didn't even try to approach me, because you knew that I belonged to someone else, and now you haven't approached me, because I belong to you –'

'But _not really,'_ he snapped again, 'not because you chose me of your own will. The only way to make our marriage real would have been if _you_ had asked _me_ to.'

He stilled so suddenly that the silence was almost painful. Has he really said that? Hasn't just _thought_ it? Did he had to spoil everything in the last (or in the one after the last) moment?

'Yes, I know,' she finally answered, softly, almost fearfully. 'And do you know _why_ I have never asked?'

'She could tell what Neville was about to say, so quickly went on: _'Please,_ don't say that it's because you are not good enough for me, and especially not that you think I'm waiting for my _Perfect Match,_ and I want save my virtue for him!

'You don't?' he asked wonderingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Neville, please, we are _adults_ now, and we are living in the twenty-first century! And above that,' she added defiantly, 'we have talk sincerely about everything, including sex – even if I know that the etiquette rule-books you inherited from your Gran (who originally bought them a hundred years ago) say it is not proper.

'Neville, you know I am not blind or insensitive... I know what you feel, what are you longing for, and I can assure you there is nothing wrong with it... it would be wrong if you felt otherwise... And I have already told you that I would like to live with you in an actual relation.'

'That's way you divorced me?'

'I did _not_ divorce you, because there is no divorce in the wizarding world at all. The only possibility is the _annulment,_ but only if we never had sex with each other; you remember that horrible _Wizarding Register, _ don't you?

'We all know that it was not Voldemort who invented the prejudices against the Muggle-borns, don't we? It can be the case that he – being a half-blood himself – didn't actually believe them: he simply needed followers with week character but with influence... And we had to find out there are quite a lot of people fitting these conditions. While the majority of them didn't actually become Death-Eater, but deep inside they do believe that parentage does matter, and the old wizard-families are bound to keep their blood pure... For instance, _your_ family, albeit not as rich and powerful, is much older than that of Draco Malfoy.'

'You want to imply,' he asked incredulously, 'that I am one of those who judge people by their blood-status?' He tried to control himself, but his voice clearly showed how hurt he felt.

'No, of course, you don't – but there must be some of your relations and acquaintance how do think that way; sooner or later someone would ask you, why you married a Muggle-born witch if you could have chose someone from higher ancestry?'

'Because I still have free will and free choice; it's up to me to decide who I want to live my life with,' he stated firmly.

Hermione nodded. 'Then you will understand what I mean: you didn't _choose_ me; what you did can be called an act of chivalry, or self-sacrifice, or anything else, but an actual choice based on your free will...'

'Then how could I convince you that you are whom I want frankly, really and truly? Should we go back to the Registry Office and say "Sorry, we have changed our minds, we would like to quickly cancel the cancellation"?'

'No, at least not right now: just as an act of chivalry is not a good enough reason for a marriage, nor is a sudden impulse, or the Firewhiskey, by the way.'

Pondering for a while on her words, Neville felt that somewhere deep inside, there _was_ some sort of logic in it. He personally had never experienced what is like to be considered less valuable because of his blood-status, but guessed it might be similar to how he had felt since his child-hood: lonely, week and humiliated... People treated like that might become insecure, mistrusting, and finally they might even reject everyone who try to friendly approach them...

But her case was entirely different to his, he reminded himself, she was brave, talented and ambitious – but even then, she needed someone she could firmly rely on, who would support her, no matter what happens. Of course he knew that he was that person, but how could he prove it to her?

And what if he looked it from the other side, he asked himself: was there a way that could prove him that he was more than just a substitute, a 'weak replacement of Ron Weasley'? Better than Draco Malfoy (he shuddered again), but not the real one. Because if there was, he did want to try it.

Suddenly a funny little idea popped into his mind, referring to a strange but no way impossible future... He couldn't hold back a little lopsided smile, when he asked: 'Do you know what you risk? Let's suppose that twenty years from now you are giving an interview to the Daily Prophet and Rita Skeeter is asking you,' he tried his best to imitate Rita's fake kindness and elaborate style, '"Minister, while we congratulate you on your winning, we cannot deny the apparent fact that our readers aren't interested only in your political plans, but your private life as well; let's take, for example, your husband – whose name I couldn't recall right now – how could you choose him of all the men? Oh, yes, I remember now, there was that unfortunate Thicknesse Law... Hard times they were, indeed... Accept my honest compassion, Minister."'

'So you see now what I mean: should this really happen, I want to answer that I live with the man I chose, I don't need any excuse or justification.'

'Then what should we do now?' he asked again.

'Just take me home – _home,_ to Longbottom Hall.'

Neville was about to protest about how improper it would be, but a second later he knew it would just provoke another quip about etiquette-books that were outdated by a hundred years.

'But you have moved out,' he found a more concrete objection, 'you have taken away your clothes, and everything...'

'Have I really?' she asked with a playful smile. 'Did you see me packing?'

Ne, he remembered, he did not see her packing; actually, he hardly saw anything at all, he might have spent the past few days in a state like delirium...

'You never wanted to actually move out?' he asked in disbelief. 'How did you know that I...' _take you back_ he wanted to say, but that would have been too rude, so instead he finished otherwise, '... would come here tonight?'

'I did not _know,_ I only _hoped_ – now that the circumstances do not force you, you might say no: either permanently or only to give each other a few months to think of –'

'Oh no, that won't be necessary,' he hastened to protest. 'We can leave right now, if you are sure that...'

'You mean that if I am sure that I want this, or if I am sure that it will work fine?

'The answer is a _yes_ for the first question, and as for the second: we can only hope, it depends only on the two of us, doesn't it?' she gently touched his hand and look in his eyes. 'I know you feel insecure, and maybe resentful; I do feel so myself; I don't blame you, and I ask you not to blame me... I'd like us to start it again, but this time of our own will, without being forced.'

Preparing to leave, Neville wandered, maybe Hermione was right – true to her habit of being right – maybe this day was not the _end_ of their life together, but the _beginning_ of it. Not that all his doubt and fear suddenly left him... most likely never in his life he would be absolutely sure that he was the man who is good enough for her; but still, now he felt he had a chance to try to become that man.


End file.
